


The Assembling of Mystrade.

by Dragonsbain



Series: Glimpses of Mystrade. [1]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Anthea is an Angel, John Being A Good Friend, M/M, Mystrade fluff, Mystrade sex, Sherlock Being a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsbain/pseuds/Dragonsbain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my humble attempt to explain the start of Mycroft and Greg's time as a couple. I hope you enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. This little fic came from a text conversation with @kowabungadoodles. The woman knows my soul when it comes to my OTP. Mycroft and Greg. (John and Sherlock have been canon since ACD.)  
> I wanted to write this bit of sex and fluff. 
> 
> (Sex + Fluff= smuff ?)
> 
> This has been hiding on Tumblr. I decided to move it here. There is a bit of crossover with Snowblind. Mostly, certain things that are wrong with Mycroft and a few OC's. I hope you enjoy.

Greg finished brushing his teeth. When his eyes turned to the mirror, he could tell had been a long week. There were visible bags under his eyes. He had seen worst though.

  
The week had been a general success. They had captured a serial murderer. It had called for three weeks with 4 victims. The fifth person survived. The clues had come together while driving to closely analyze the last crime scene. Option of three locations. The first was minutes from where they were located.

  
Greg wasn’t sure who was more surprised. The murderer who had scarcely made his first slash. Or, Sherlock who was grumbling that his luck had run so bad lately that the first choice couldn’t be right. John grabbed the girl. Sherlock grabbed the accomplice. Greg grabbed the butcher.

  
Greg rubbed his right shoulder. Twelve stitches. Greg honestly didn’t know he had been stabbed. He was overly concerned with locking down the scene. Sherlock turning a shade of pale he had never seen before was the first hint. Sherlock had been insistent that he be the one to take out the knife when they got to hospital. Sherlock was so tired. The guilt had been genuine.

  
Sherlock and John had stumbled into Greg’s office to finish the paperwork about 7 hrs ago. They were now in a post case coma. If he hadn’t heard from them by morning, Greg was going to send Mrs. Hudson into the flat to see if they were still breathing.

Greg finished slipping into his pajamas.

_Where the hell are you Myc?"_

  
Greg thought as he looked at his toothbrush next to Mycroft’s. That view was both familiar and strange. Their relationship had taken the better part of a decade to get to this stage.

“Gregory. I do believe living under the same roof might make matters easier on both of us.”

Mycroft’s quiet admission had led to the toothbrushes becoming roommates. That was some six months ago.

  
They had settled into a comfortable routine.

Eventually.

  
_You never truly know a person till you live with them._

  
Greg laughed at the memories of conversations with John.

  
“You two sound like a couple of adolescent girls.” Sherlock had noted.

  
Greg supposed they did. Sherlock hadn’t made a fuss when Greg told him. Which had surprised him.

  
Greg could hear the front door opening. It was 22:34. He felt comfortable walking out in his pajamas. At this time of night Mycroft was stumbling in alone or..

  
“Hi, Greg.”

“Hey, Ant.”

“Myc where do you want the paperwork?”

"Burning in the fireplace?”

Greg looked between Mycroft and Anthea. They both looked more tired than he felt.

“That bad of a day?”

"No.”

  
Mycroft had already ripped off his tie and kicked off his shoes. Anthea’s heels and coat had been abandoned at the doorway. Greg looked at Anthea confused.

  
“What is that American phrase?” Mycroft intoned.

"Stick a fork in me..” Anthea started.

“We are done.” The three finished.

  
Mycroft disappeared from view as he fell on the sofa. Anthea was circling Greg.

  
“Let me check the wound.”

  
Anthea smiled and began unbuttoning Greg’s top.

“Myc?"

"Hmmm?”

“I’m undressing your… boyfriend.”

  
Mycroft’s hand waved from the sofa. Greg and Anthea laughed.

Mycroft liked to say that he had:

  
“A wife without the benefits. Then he had Greg. Who possessed a plethora of them.”

  
Greg was more than comfortable with the fact that they genuinely did love each other. They had over ten years of relying on each other for their next breath. It was purely platonic. It was Anthea that had sat both of them down and made them confess their feelings for each other ten months ago.

They hadn’t said the “L” word then. They weren't ready to deal with it.

A horrific fight between them seven months ago landed Mycroft on Anthea’s doorstep at 02:00. Greg really didn’t recall what it had been over. By 06:00 Anthea had kidnapped Greg and brought him to her flat. Where they picked up the argument.

Mycroft was almost intoxicated. It made his tongue loose and his feelings sharper.

  
“That is it!! It is over! Throw him back in that bloody bunker, Anthea.”

  
Greg headed for the front door. Greg heard a whine. A whimper.

 

“Stop Gregory!”

 

Greg never knew why he stopped. The unusual thing was he went from raging cross to almost calm in ten seconds.

 

“Why should I?”

“I..I”

 

Greg reached for the door knob and turned it. Greg looked over his shoulder. Mycroft was leaning against the wall.

 

"Why..is..this..so…hard?”

 

Each word punctuated by his head striking the wall. Greg turned back around. Anthea was standing in front of Mycroft.

 

"You are experiencing it for the first time.”

"I say it to you. I mean it when I say it.”

 

Greg smiled at the memory. It was a touchstone in their relationship.  

 

* * *

 

"Ouch. Easy Ant.”

 

Anthea cleaning the stitches pulled him back into the present.

 

“Sorry Greg.”

 

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

 

“This is still very tender.”

"You are forgiven.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Gentle Reader,  
> Like with all my writing, this piece used a bunch of music as inspiration. This chapter was influenced by the following.
> 
> Smooth (featuring Rob Thomas) by Santana from the album Supernatural. 
> 
> Here is the link.
> 
> https://youtu.be/6Whgn_iE5uc

* * *

* * *

 

A week or so after they admitted to liking each other Anthea had been shot. The bullet was meant for Mycroft. Another assassination attempt. Anthea saw the gun and stepped in front of it.

Flashes of the report came back to Greg.

_Government official shot at. Suspect still at large. Injured at the scene._

Greg couldn’t get Mycroft on text. Sally smartly played chauffeur.

Recognizing that only a bit of blood can make anywhere look like a murder scene. Greg didn't panic. Too highly trained for that. Physically there was a great deal of blood though. Emergency crews had to restart someone’s heart. Sally threw him back in the car and brought him to St. Bart’s.

“It is not Mycroft.” John stated.

Sherlock looked relieved. The Holmes brother's hate for one another usually disappeared in the face of serious injuries.

* * *

"Be back in a minute Greg." 

Greg watched as Anthea disappeared. She was looking for something. Greg attempted to put his mind back on track.

* * *

Greg learned a few things from the shooting.

Anthea was strong for her size. She had pushed Mycroft hard enough that he cracked the glass door they were standing near. He was bruised for a few weeks.

Greg proudly showed her the security footage while she was healing. He promptly christened her “Ant”. Anthea laughed. She took the compliment and the name.

Mycroft and Anthea were bonded on a deep level. Best friends, MI-6 agents and government people. They had killed for each other. Greg understood what that does to a soul. A lot like Sherlock and John’s relationship. Just longer and deeper.

The incident had shown how much Mycroft trusted and needed him. It had been nearly an hour and a half since the shooting before he could see Mycroft. He was an empty lounge room on a secured floor of the hospital. Mycroft was standing in the corner.

“Greg when they capture the gunman don’t let me anywhere near him.”

“Why, Myc?”

Mycroft turned around. Mycroft was bloodied from his neck to his knees. 

_He was cradling her._

“I will obliterate him with my bare hands. If she doesn’t…”

Mycroft’s voice cracked. He brought it back under control.

“survive I will utilize my vast knowledge of death to make him suffer as long as possible before I let him die.”

He could see Mycroft was shaking like a leaf. Greg crossed the room to stand near him. 

“Myc. I’m here. Whatever happens. I am not going anywhere.”

Greg had only ever seen Mycroft shed a few tears. Mostly tied to Sherlock’s battle with drugs. Then a few, of relief, when they had opened up to each other. Mycroft backed up to the sofa. 

“Why am I not allowed to have both of you?!!” Mycroft screamed.

Greg closed the distance and slowly reached out for him. Mycroft wanted to bolt. Greg could see that. 

"Stop fighting it. Trust me, Myc. We are alone." 

Greg gently lowered him to sit on the floor leaning against the sofa. Mycroft sobbed himself raw. Greg just held him close.

* * *

“Greg I have to give you another stitch.”

“I trust you Ant. Do what you need to.”

* * *

Greg's mind wandered back to the scene in Anthea's flat.

Greg and Anthea knew Mycroft was “touch sensitive” to those he loved and worried about. That is why Greg and Anthea just watched him try and get the words out. If either of them touched him, he would become silent and cuddly.

“I’m different Myc. I’m your best friend. I will always love you with everything I have. I recognize it is the same for you. You are bright enough to know there are different love types.”

“Knowing it and experiencing it are entirely different. I can't quite think straight. I am overwhelmed.”

Mycroft turned and gave Greg his real smile. The one that lit up his eyes and caused a little blush to his cheeks. Greg remembered stifling a whimper. Greg considered that look and those words even more important than the words Mycroft couldn’t say so far.

Mycroft stood up and faced Greg.

“Mr. Gregory Lestrade I..am..in..lo..love with you.”

Anthea was vibrating with happiness.

“I desire to be in love with you.”

Greg’s kiss answered the unspoken query. Anthea grabbed her keys and let them have at it. She came back at noon. It was her flat after all. Gratefully, it was a Saturday. Neither of them had any pressing matters to see to.

Anthea took a moment to drink in scene.

They were both stark naked. (She had collected their clothes from around the flat.)

Curled up with each other. (Mycroft playing big spoon.)

In her bed, asleep. (Under her graphically designed red and pink roses with black background sheets.)

This would live in her memory, forever.

“Myc. Wake up.”

He wasn’t responding. Anthea poked at a few of his soft spots. Mycroft sleepily swatted at her hands.

“Anthea will you quit that.”

Mycroft opened his eyes and gasped. Greg woke up immediately.

“What Myc?”

Greg turned towards Mycroft and Anthea.

“As far as I can tell, the hallway, the sofa, the dinning table then the bed. Did I leave out any?”

Anthea never thought that either of them could blush that hard. Greg wasn’t sure who started laughing first Ant or himself.

“I like you Ant.”

Mycroft just groaned.

“Welcome to the family Greg. You guys get dressed. I’ve made tea.”

Greg moved into Mycroft’s house a month later.

* * *

  
“All done Greg.”

Anthea was covering the wound.

“Thanks Ant.”

Greg was buttoning up his top as Anthea was checking on Mycroft.

“Is he asleep?” Greg quietly asked.

“Dozing.”

Anthea gave Mycroft a goodbye kiss. He opened his eyes and smiled.

“Sleep well and sweet dreams.”

“You too.”

Anthea walked back towards Greg. He pulled her into a warm hug.

“You need to get home and get some sleep.”

“I will.”

“Myc. No rough stuff, please. I just fixed a few of his stitches.”

A pillow came flying from the sofa.

“Leave. Sleep. Goodnight.”

They both could hear the laughter in his voice. Greg saw her out.  
Greg worked his way back to the couch. Mycroft was dozing again.

“Tired, Myc?”

Mycroft opened his eyes.

“Exhausted, Gregory.”

Mycroft gave him a small wink. Greg smiled at him in return.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Gentle Reader,  
> Here we begin the sex. So all appropriate warnings apply. Two different pieces soundtracked this chapter. I will give you starting points for both pieces. This way you can see where my mind was at. 
> 
> Take Me to Church by Hozier from Hozier (bonus track version)
> 
> https://youtu.be/c-tW0CkvdDI
> 
> (Start this when Greg pulls Mycroft from the sofa.)
> 
>    
> Sonata in G Minor for Cello & Piano, Op. 19 by Rachmaninov 
> 
> https://youtu.be/POPZ7_IXckg
> 
> (Start this when they get to the back room. Trust me this really works.)

* * *

* * *

 

Mycroft’s eyes fluttered closed again. His lips had a hint of a smile.

Greg hummed and kneeled in front of Mycroft. Greg disconnected the pocket watch from the waistcoat and placed it on the table. Greg started working the buttons of his waistcoat. He kept looking at Mycroft’s face.

Mycroft could drop a lot of his armour in Greg’s presence. It had taken time. For both of them. Emotional trust was a slow build. Between them they had enough extra baggage to fill a train car.

Greg opened the waistcoat. He then removed the cuff links. Greg freed both of Mycroft’s wrist from the shirt. Greg massaged each wrist in turn.

_Oh that feels nice Gregory._

The week had been long. They were both weary. But how much so?

Greg started unbuttoning Mycroft’s collar. He was dozing. Greg ran a thumb along his jawline. Mycroft gave a small smile. Greg half opened his shirt.

_Myc?_

Greg leaned forward. Mycroft took a deep breath. His chest and Greg’s lips met halfway. Greg pulled back. Mycroft’s face remained just as placid. Mycroft was neither encouraging him or stopping him.

_Ok._

Greg decided the belt needed to go next. He opened the buckle and placed his hand where it was. He gave a gentle push. Mycroft responded with another deep breath.

_Really Myc?_

Greg pulled the leather loose. The belt joined the watch. Mycroft really hadn’t moved, at all.  
Greg carefully ran a finger on the inside of the waistband. The flesh jumped a bit. Greg silently laughed.

_Let’s try this._

Greg opened the last few buttons of Mycroft’s shirt, with his mouth. Teeth grabbing the fabric and his tongue working the button through the hole. Greg pulled the shirt tales loose of the trousers. Greg pressed light kisses up Mycroft’s abdomen. The breaths stuttered. Mycroft’s face was still placid. Greg’s mind went into overdrive.

_You want to play, Myc? Let’s play._

Greg pulled one sock off. Then the other. Mycroft briefly felt Greg’s lips on his. Then he was gone.

_Gregory?_

Mycroft was content to just lie there and doze. He could just hear Greg shuffling about. The only other sound was a storm in the distance.

_One hundred and eight, one hundred and nine…_

Greg returned just under the two minute mark. Greg kneeled again. Mycroft felt Greg’s tongue lick his lips open. Greg pulled him into a sitting position without breaking the kiss. When they broke for a breath, Mycroft opened his eyes. Greg’s face was glowing with happiness and mischief.

“Trust me.” Greg said with a wink.

Mycroft felt soft fingers closing his eyes. A silk scarf wound around his eyes. Greg took his arms and tugged him up. Mycroft huffed out a quiet laugh while standing.

_I saw that Myc._

Greg led him to an open area of the room. Greg let go of his hands and tugged at the collar of his jacket. Mycroft let his body go lax. The jacket slid off of his arms. Greg walked away from him.

_Putting it over the back of the sofa._

Mycroft felt both of Greg’s hands grasp the collar of the waistcoat. His hands slowly followed the outline of the waistcoat. Returning to Mycroft’s shoulders and squeezing.

The waistcoat fell into Greg’s hands. Greg closely studied his face as he walked back from the sofa. Mycroft was trying not to give a smirk. Greg smiled and walked behind him. Mycroft had him by two inches in height. Not that Greg minded. He fit perfectly well against him.

Mycroft felt Greg’s nose nuzzle into the back of his neck. Followed by his lips and teeth as they latched on to the collar of his shirt.

Greg slowly kneeled taking the shirt with him. His eyes closely watched as a shiver made it’s way down Mycroft’s spine.

“You are awake.”

Greg stood in front of him.

“That was no fair.”

Greg gave him a deep laugh.

Mycroft felt Greg fully press up against him. Greg’s teeth were nipping at his lips. Mycroft felt his hands gently threading through his hair. Mycroft let his head fall into Greg’s hands. Greg looked at his stretched neck.

_Not yet Myc._

Greg’s knees slowly bent.

Mycroft could feel Greg quickly suckle at his collarbone.

_Ok maybe one._

Greg’s knees settled on the carpet. He looked up at a smiling face.

_Brat._

_But I’m your.._

Mycroft’s thought was stopped short. Greg was freeing him of his trousers. Greg held up an arm for Mycroft to steady himself against.

Greg returned and rubbed some of the stress out of his legs. Mycroft relaxed a bit more. Greg smirked.

_Now it gets interesting, Myc._

Mycroft felt Greg’s lips slowly work down his torso. Mycroft lifted the scarf a bit to watch Greg’s talented mouth remove his underwear.

_Why the hell didn’t we do this whole thing sooner?_

Greg laid two quick kisses on Mycroft’s manhood. No reaction.

_I remember. You were married and I am a scared dolt._

“Gregory!” Mycroft squeaked out.

Greg had wiggled a cold nose into his navel. Mycroft had jumped a bit. Greg stood and laid his head between Mycroft’s shoulder blades.

“You were thinking too hard.”

Greg hugged him from behind.

“I am about to take care of that.”

Mycroft relaxed into the embrace.

“Just relax and enjoy.”

Greg took his hand and started walking.

_Where are we going?_

In the back of Mycroft’s house was a simply laid out music room. The floor was dark oak. The walls were a light pine green. One wall was a series of ceiling to floor windows and French doors. The windows offered a full view of the garden. A few comfortable chairs with side tables and a sofa were the only furnishings. A few plants tied the entire thing together. It had always given Greg the impression of walking into the woods.

Greg stopped before he opened the door.

“Myc. Trust me. I have done my research.”

Greg led him into the room.

_The music room?_

The star of this room was a Steinway & Sons Model D Concert Grand piano. Satin Ebony colour. The things Mycroft could do with that instrument were mind blowing. The first time Mycroft played for him was memorable.

The best experience was about four months ago. A week of particularly difficult negotiations meant Mycroft couldn’t sleep. He snuck out of bed and came down here. Greg quietly followed. Best decision of his life.

Mycroft took his frustration out on the keys. Then he settled down. Mycroft played like he made love. Precise, tender and playful with a bit of controlled power behind it. After an hour and a half he exhausted himself and stopped.

Mycroft had his eyes closed the entire time. He lowered his head against the closed keys. After deep breathing for a few minutes he raised his head. He was surprised to see Greg standing there.

“Gregory? Is everything ok?”

Greg had made no attempt to hide that Mycroft’s playing had reduced him to tears. After a few stuttering attempts to explain what he was thinking, Greg gave up and threw him on the sofa. Mycroft soon understood. After he could speak again, Mycroft made a simple statement.

“I need to play for you more often.”

“Yes you do.”

Greg walked him near the piano. Mycroft made to speak.

“Shhh. Like I said I did my research. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Greg gave him a quick kiss.

_Have to keep to…_

Greg hugged him from behind. Mycroft’s mind was a hard thing to shut down. Thankfully, he had months of “research” to work out how to do that. The method he came up with killed two birds with one stone.

Mycroft was a MI-6 agent. Didn’t matter that most of Mycroft’s job was now paper pushing and negotiations. He still disappeared from time to time. Three times since they started cohabitating. His body bore the scars of his service. Some more horrific than others. Mycroft was incredibly self conscience about them.

Learning this, Greg made it his personal mission to change Mycroft’s attitude. Greg made sure each scar was touched and worshiped as much as any other part of his body. It had taken a while for Mycroft to loosen up and enjoy.

“The sides. The frame. Myc hush.”

Greg ran his hand down Mycroft’s left side while nibbling on his right shoulder. Greg’s fingers walked down Mycroft’s hip to the joint between his thigh and groin. This was Greg’s crowning achievement in healing Mycroft. One of the most ghastly scars on his body, and it’s twin, were now Greg’s, and Mycroft’s, favorite shut Myc’s brain off buttons.

Greg’s fingers lightly caressed the skin and Mycroft wiggled straight into Greg’s left hip.

_Bless predictably_.

Greg moved his hand from hip to cupping Mycroft’s glorious arse. The right locked fingers with the left.

_Up you get._

Greg swung Mycroft up to rest on the piano. Greg’s hands gently pushed Mycroft’s shoulders to the wood.

Mycroft felt Greg’s tongue part his lips and run the inside of his front teeth. An erogenous spot Greg had found on him. One of a thousand, it seemed.

Greg backed up a few steps. Greg just let himself breathe in the sight. Mycroft’s pale skin. Peppered with constellations of freckles. Stood out bewitchingly on the ebony of the piano. The storm rolling in just enhanced the entire sight.

“Myc. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

Mycroft heard the mix of arousal and pure emotion in Greg’s voice. He could barely think. An answer was beyond him at the moment.Greg watched as Mycroft rolled towards him and curled up a bit. The blush just bloomed across his torso and crept upwards.

“You know that is just going to encourage me further?”

Mycroft nodded. Greg let loose a low growl in his throat. Mycroft’s brain was starting to disconnect. Mycroft’s lips let out a small giggle. Greg responded with a rumbling laugh.

Mycroft could feel Greg’s lips nip and suckle his jaw and neck. Greg blew across this skin and raised goosebumps.

Greg watched as Mycroft lightly shivered under him. Mycroft’s skin was as sensitive as it was breathtaking. Greg had learned gentle worked much better on Mycroft. Sure they both appreciated a good rutting, occasionally. But, Mycroft bruised like a peach. He already had enough scars.

Greg mouth worked the bottom of his ribs. He tried to time the nips to Mycroft’s breathing. Which was definitely increasing. Mycroft hated his nipples being played with. So Greg had searched for a counterpart. Mycroft’s arms between the elbow and wrist were just filled with fantastic nerve endings. Greg’s right hand latched on to Mycroft’s right elbow and started kneading.

Mycroft’s body gently twisted. A needy whimper escaped his lips. Greg raised his head and looked down.

_Now you are waking up._

Greg lowered himself again to Mycroft’s eager skin. Which was flushing out as he went.

_Sorry Myc. I have too._

Greg’s tongue and Mycroft’s navel decided to dance a bit. Mycroft let out a combination groan,scream and laugh. Greg could feel Mycroft slap the piano.

“Christ! …Gregory.”

Mycroft could barely get the words out.

_Perfect. Now time for the main event._

Greg laid three kisses on Mycroft’s penis. Root to tip. The groans just drove him on. Greg grabbed Mycroft’s legs and spread them. Greg traced both scars with his tongue. Mycroft’s hips came off the piano. Greg rolled him on his side. Mycroft’s left leg now rested on Greg’s shoulders.

Greg’s tongue disappeared behind his balls. Greg had accidentally discovered this little spot. It seemed every playful nerve in Mycroft’s body was connected to it. Mycroft’s brain officially went offline at this point.

Greg lovingly lapped at the spot and started mouthing both balls. The erotic howling filling his ears was wonderful. Greg suddenly felt Mycroft’s hand clawing at his shoulder.

_He can’t reach my ear._

That was their stop signal. Greg pulled off and placed his hand on Mycroft’s chest. His heart was racing. Mycroft started taking deep breaths. Greg went to pull up the scarf. It was wet.

“Myc? You ok?”

Mycroft opened his eyes. His pupils were blown out. Mycroft nodded.

“You want me to stop?”

Mycroft shook his head.

“You just need a minute?”

A broken “Yes.” was his answer.

Greg understood. It was the difference between being thrown off the cliff and gracefully diving off. Mycroft wrapped his arms around him.

“What did I…ever do to deserve…you, Gregory?”

“You exist. It is as simple as that.”

A choked sob was all the answer he needed.

“I love you too, Myc.”

Mycroft nuzzled into Greg’s neck for a minute. Mycroft relaxed back on the piano. He turned to watch the storm rolling in. His eyes were soon covered by a flannel. Greg was wiping off his face while shaking the scarf out.

“You ready?”

Mycroft nodded.

“Want this back?”

“Absolutely.”

Greg folded it so the wet section wouldn’t be against his skin.

“Now where was I?”

Mycroft wiggled his hips a bit. For some reason they both found the action the funniest thing. Greg mouthed his penis from the side. Laughter still making his lips vibrate. Mycroft stopped. Greg turned and his head was thrown back.

_Well, well. What do we have here?_

The action had made Mycroft harden up. Greg released him.

“Myc, breathe.”

Mycroft took a few deep breaths.

“Wha..?”

“You want me to do it again?”

Mycroft nodded. Enthusiastically. A lighting bolt decided to illuminate the sky at that moment.

“I have been commanded by my lover and the gods. I shall obey.”

Mycroft slapped him on the shoulder.

_Laugh. Vibration. Oh. I’ve got this._

Greg lips gently landed on various parts of Mycroft’s shaft while humming. He was hearing a whole new range of sounds out of Mycroft. All encouraging. Greg pulled back. Mycroft was all flushed out. His lips were trying to smile while taking deep breaths.

“You are just all sorts of delicious tonight, Myc.”

Mycroft nodded his head and let out happy mewl. Greg turned back to Mycroft’s weeping shaft. Greg gently took it all into his mouth. Letting Mycroft adjust to the sensation. Then he started bobbing. Mycroft was relaxing into the motion.

They had done this countless times before. Mycroft was just extra sensitive tonight. So Greg was going slow. Greg knew his signs well. Mycroft’s thighs and stomach started fluttering. He was almost there.

Greg tried one full bob while humming. Mycroft’s hips came off the table. A howl filled the room. It wasn’t as frantic as before.

The second time. Same reaction with a slap to the piano. Greg could taste Mycroft starting to fire off. Greg pulled off just enough to breathe.

_Third time is a charm._

Greg dipped all the way to the root. Slowly pulling back up while humming loudly. Mycroft’s hips pushed Greg’s head up. Mycroft was arched between his shoulders and heels. Greg opened his throat so he wouldn’t choke. Didn’t spill a drop.

Greg was just releasing the tip when Mycroft went limp. Greg had half a second to catch him before he slammed back down on the piano. Greg coughed to clear his throat.

“Myc?”

Greg removed the scarf. Mycroft’s pulse was just a bit elevated. Greg pulled open his eyes.

“He passed out.”

Greg laughed.

“That is a first.”

Greg made a quick decision to carry him to the bedroom. While he was still limp. Greg threw him over his left shoulder.

“Well that was my workout for the week.”

Greg let him fall on the bed.

“Be right back.”

Greg took about five minutes to shut down the house. Mycroft had not moved. Greg properly arranged him under the covers.

After performing his nightly routine Greg slid under the covers with him. Mycroft’s eyes were dancing under their lids. Greg kissed him on his forehead.

“Sweet dreams, Myc.”

 


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing special in this chapter. Just tooth rotting fluff. ;)

* * *

* * *

 

Mycroft opened his eyes.

_What am I doing in bed?_

Mycroft knew he was tired but..

_Please say I didn’t dream all that._

Mycroft’s brain never relaxed much. Dream within a dream. Mycroft had lost count of the amount of times that had happened.

Mycroft didn’t care to lucid dream. Let his subconscious have some release. It was quite frustrating. Wake up to only figure out he was still asleep. Mycroft devised a trial. Mycroft made his way to the loo. Somehow even his brain couldn’t get the scent and taste of toothpaste correct in a dream. One or the other would be off.

Mycroft popped open the toothpaste tube.

_Smells of mint._

He starts brushing his teeth.

_Tastes of mint. I am awake._

Mycroft looked at Greg curled in the blankets. Cute was not a word you could use with either of them. They were both either side of 50. Greg’s body was trying it’s best to lie still. Just rest and heal. Greg’s face was orders more relaxed during the day than Mycroft’s. Thusly, in sleep, it was very expressive.

Mycroft would watch him sometimes. Try and imagine what he was dreaming. Mycroft had figured out his nightmare signals. Short staggered breathing and his body would drop in temperature. Start shivering. Greg didn’t have a nightmare often. When he did they were prodigious. That they shared in common.

“If you are going to have a nightmare. Have a nightmare.”

Greg had once commented while comforting Mycroft.

“Don’t half-arse it.”

Mycroft had some of the most horrific, vivid nightmares Greg had ever heard of. It was an outgrowth of his job.

"This is the only time I wish I could disconnect your intellect, Myc. So you could just sleep peacefully."

Mycroft smiled at the memory. He turned to look at himself in the mirror. He had a goofy grin on his face. With the toothbrush sticking out of it. Add the wild bed head he was sporting. Mycroft had to stop himself from laughing.

Mycroft finished brushing his teeth and leaned against the loo doorway. Greg looked very peaceful. Mycroft used to squash the feelings he would get when looking at Greg like this. It was his pride run amuck. Greg had healed Mycroft a great deal.

Greg taught him was ok to get emotional. Particularly in a safe space. Mycroft gave himself over to the warm feeling blooming from his chest. His brain felt the comfortable fuzz settle around it. He turned toward the mirror and looked at himself. His eyes had glossed over and the smile was luminescent. Greg had showed him this part of himself.

Anthea was quite right. It is much different. Greg had opened him in a way no one had before. It had enriched all of his closest relationships. Hence they could all get extra soppy with each other. Then blame Greg.

Mycroft stifled a giggle.

Mycroft was glad that everyone had whole heartily accepted Greg, as his partner. John, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson and his parents. They were the easy bunch.

Then there were Max and Sam. Handlers. Truly good friends. Pseudo second parents. They already respected Greg as a Detective Inspector. The two knew what he had done to help Mycroft with Sherlock. Anthea getting shot was the turning point. Something happened in the hospital that created a bond between the five of them.

Mycroft turned his thoughts to his breakdown in the lounge. Mycroft looked up from Greg’s shoulder to catch Max and Sam with confused expressions. They were upset about Anthea. Then ecstatic about the fact that they found him curled onto Greg sobbing. Mycroft never did things like that. Anthea, Max and Sam were the only ones Mycroft could fall apart on. Greg was brought into the fold from that point on.

Anthea was the most significant. Best friend. Soul mate, in dozens of ways. She nurtured and then blessed this union.

_She is going to be a stunning Maid of honor. Max is going to take over planning it. Then fall apart during it. Sam is going to make some speech that I will have to kill him for._

Mycroft slapped himself.

 _Get a handle on yourself. Too bloody early for that_.

Right now Mycroft turned his thoughts carnal. He hated to wake Greg. It was a sacrifice Mycroft was willing to make.

 _It's stupid and corny. Just put me out of my misery_.

Mycroft slid in next to Greg. Mycroft curled around him. Careful of his shoulder.

_Shite. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this. He has just started healing._

Mycroft gently rubbed Greg’s side. Greg snuggled into him.

“Gregory.”

_Myc? What’s up?_

Greg cracked open his eyes.

_02:30? You passed out Myc. You are over tired. You only slept 2 and half hours?_

“You carried me up the stairs?”

Greg rolled over and saw Mycroft’s quizzical expression.

“You were very pliable. It was not very elegant.”

Greg watched as Mycroft processed the statement.

“You bore me off to our cave?”

Mycroft gave over to the laughter bubbling in him. Mycroft gave him a quick kiss. Greg just rolled his eyes.

“Ok. Snickers. Hold that thought.”

Greg then excused himself and left. Mycroft knew he had to act quick. He straightened the bed out. Folded the top sheet and the blanket down. Fluffed the pillows. Dimmed the lights. Mycroft wanted to do this right.

Greg was preparing himself. They were both tired. That really did not matter. Greg could hear Mycroft shuffling about. He was ready for round two.

Greg walked out stripped. Greg raved about Mycroft’s looks. Mycroft idolized Greg. It wasn’t one or another thing that stood out it was the entire package.

Mycroft could never feel totally secure. Except around Anthea, Max and Sam. Then Greg came along. Mycroft occasionally slept like the dead with him. Which did wonders for his health and psyche.

Mycroft was no weakling. His service had proved that. It was just that Greg was more. The magician/scholar and the knight. The panther and the lion. The stag and the grizzly bear.

That vision of a sliver grizzly was giving him a “come get me” expression. Mycroft wanted to take him where he stood.

_Stick to the plan._

“Gregory. Time for me to give back the favor.”

Mycroft patted the bed. Greg walked over to the bed and sat down.

 

 

 


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Gentle Reader,  
> I hope you have been enjoying this. This chapter is NC-17. Mycroft gets his turn. Again music plays a big role here. 
> 
> "When the Levee Breaks" by Led Zeppelin from Led Zeppelin IV (Remastered) 
> 
> http://youtu.be/WbrjRKB586s
> 
> Start it when Mycroft does. ;)

* * *

* * *

 

“How long have you wanted to do that?”

“Take you on the piano?”

Mycroft nodded. Greg wiggled to the center of the bed. Mycroft sat on the far side.

“Oh, about four months now.”

Mycroft laid back. His head landed on Greg’s chest.

“Nothing like advanced planning.”

Greg began playing with his hair. Mycroft rolled and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“I’ll say this is off the cuff. But it feels right.”

“I’m intrigued. What do you have in mind?”

Mycroft got up and walked around the bed. He was contemplating how to position Greg.

“Roll over.”

Greg did. Mycroft started positioning pillows. Largely, in front of Greg. No banging into the head board.

“How does your shoulder feel laying on your stomach?”

“It is going to be a bit sore with anything I do.”

Mycroft put a pillow under his chest. It gave his shoulder more room to move.

“Better, Myc.”

“I desire you to tell me if I’m hurting you.”

Mycroft gently touched his spine. Greg gave a small smirk.

“Ouch.”

Greg received a pillow to the head.

“You never told me that idea.”

Mycroft didn’t answer. Greg turned around and caught a look that always gave him shivers. The right kind. Thoughtful, playful and mischievous. Mycroft took out his camera phone.

“Jesus, Myc. Be gentle.”

The hint of fear in his voice was appreciated. Mycroft placed his phone into the cradle.

“No guarantees.”

Greg turned back and smiled into the pillow. Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons” had been completely ruined for him. Greg always had to disappear around a third of the way through Fall. He was content to let people believe it was because the music made him emotional. Oh did it ever. Greg blamed a few fantastic love making sessions with the man behind him for his trouble.

Mycroft’s soul was fed on music. When he gave himself over to it during sex magical things happened. Mycroft’s hands gently massaged Greg’s neck.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Mycroft gently kissed between his shoulders.

“Good.”

Greg felt Mycroft place kisses on both of his hips and pull them upwards. Mycroft ran a hand down his backbone. Checking for tenseness. Greg wiggled a bit. Mycroft leaned forward and gave Greg a kiss behind his ear.

“I will love you Gregory till the conclusion of time.” Mycroft softly stated.

Greg let the words flow through him. Mycroft could feel him physically warm up and relax. Greg’s head turned enough to reveal a gentle smile and slightly glassy eyes.

“Right now though, may the Universe have mercy on your soul.”

Mycroft’s voice turned to a husky growl. Greg’s eyes widened in shock.

“For I will not be showing any.”

Greg’s skin started getting goose bumps. Mycroft could guess that his nipples were becoming hard as well.

 

_I truly hate you sometimes, Myc._

 

Mycroft could see Greg’s smile and eye roll. Greg buried his face in the pillow.

“Play.”

Music started filling the room at Mycroft’s command. Greg could not distinguish the piece right away. It was all instruments right now. He could pick up the faint pop of the lube cap.

Mycroft circled Greg's opening with his finger. Greg could feel one finger slip in. Mycroft gently stroked his rectum. Greg started relaxing even more. Greg just sank into the pillows. Mycroft had very throughly mapped Greg’s body. Every reaction was quietly observed. Mycroft knew how and where to touch him to achieve a desired effect.

 

_He can play me as comfortably as his piano._

 

Mycroft slid the second finger in.

 

_I’m the luckiest SOB in the UK._

 

Mycroft was gently stretching him. Greg felt a calming hand on the small of his back.

 

_Oh I recognize who this is. Zeppelin? Myc knows Zeppelin?_

 

Greg knew Mycroft had varied tastes in music. Classical, Opera and Jazz. Show Tunes usually occurred after a scrap too much alcohol. A great rendition of “Oklahoma” was entrenched in his memory. But Pop or Rock was not tolerated.

 

_Full of surprises aren’t you Myc?_

 

Greg looked back again. Mycroft had his eyes shut. His body was wavering.

 

 _He is attempting to find his rhythm_.

 

Mycroft would lock into a melodic line, harmony or instrument and keep time with that. Greg relaxed back into the pillow.

Mycroft had been gently stretching Greg figuring out what to thrust to.

 

_Crash cymbal?_

 

Mycroft tried a few gentle thrusts in time with Bonham.

 

 _This works_.

 

Mycroft slid into Greg. He instantly noticed something.

 

_Going to ride me bareback? You naughty thing you._

 

“If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s goin’ to break  
If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s goin’ to break”

 

Mycroft was not thrusting. He was gently rocking both of them.

 

“When the levee breaks I’ll have no place to stay”

 

Mycroft placed his palms on Greg’s shoulder blades and gently rubbed.

 

“Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan”

 

 _Your going to be doing a lot more than that by the time I’m done with you._  Mycroft thought.

 

“Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan  
It’s got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home”

 

Mycroft moved his hands to Greg’s hips.

 

“Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well”

 

Mycroft gripped his hips a bit stiffer. Greg could feel him lining up. Mycroft gently thrust the first time. Grazing his prostate. Greg had a shutter run through his body.

 

 _I now have your attention_.

 

Mycroft rapid fired four thrusts. Rested for a two count. Then fired off four more. Each and every one directly hitting his prostate. Greg was trying to say something. Jimmy’s guitar was alone at the moment.

“OMG Myc.”

Greg had enough time for a deep breath. Mycroft thrust seven times. Three were direct hits. Four were ringing. Mycroft gently rubbed his back. Easing some of the tension. Mycroft wanted Greg to last till the conclusion of the song.

  
“Don’t it make you feel bad  
When you’re tryin’ to find your way home  
You don’t know which way to go?”

 

Mycroft snapped his hips this time. Almost but not quite pulling out. Different sensation.

 

“If you’re goin’ down South  
They got no work to do,”

  
Mycroft slid all the way in.

_What the heck, Myc?_

  
“If you don’t know about Chicago”

  
Mycroft snapped his hips backwards. The border of the head catching and dragging over it. Greg saw stars for a minute.

Mycroft wasn’t prepared for the sensation. Mycroft’s vision blurred a bit. Mycroft lowered himself next to Greg’s injured shoulder.

 

_I am the driver here. Why the hell am I so sensitive tonight?_

 

Mycroft quickly rolled Greg and kissed him deep. Greg could see Mycroft’s pupils beginning to broaden. Before Greg could put 2 and 2 together Mycroft made for his nipples. A bit a gentle suction on each was enough.

 

“You actually meant to do that.”

 

Mycroft could feel Greg’s voice flutter his lips. Mycroft gently bit his nipple. Greg drew back with a laugh. The next cymbal crash was a light slap on Greg’s hip.

Mycroft kept working at his nipples. One with his mouth. One with his fingers. Mycroft had succeeded in bringing Greg to complete orgasm just working his nipples. More than one time. Mycroft would switch nipples every ten seconds.

After almost a minute Mycroft got up. Greg looked at Mycroft’s face as he was repositioning him. It had the cutest little smile on it.

 

 _I am stupidly in love with this big dork._ Greg thought.

 

The next cymbal crash Mycroft pressed a gentle kiss on the end of Greg’s tailbone. Greg felt the goosebumps start to fan out. Mycroft pushed back in.

Mycroft gripped his hips once more. Another series of four thrusts. Two second breather. Then another four thrusts.

 

“Cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do you no good”

 

Greg was three quarters of the way there. Mycroft would get a bit harder wth each thrust.

 

“Now, cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do you no good”

 

Mycroft moved his hand between Greg’s legs. He cupped Greg’s balls.

 

“When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move”

 

Mycroft’s hands were a wonder. Greg had seen his fingers snap chopsticks. Make that piano of his sing and cry. Mycroft possessed a feather light touch that could soothe or energize. Greg could feel his sack getting rolled and gently fingered.

Mycroft watched as Greg buried his head in the pillow. A cry/whimper came from him. Mycroft gently stroked his side. He felt Greg take a nice deep breath.

 

_Not yet Gregory. Here comes the best part._

 

“All last night sat on the levee and moaned”

  
Mycroft removed his right hand from Greg’s balls. Greg could feel him wiggle a bit repositioning himself. Greg could feel little shocks shoot up his spine.

 

“All last night sat on the levee and moaned”

 

Mycroft’s hand came round front. The open palm gently warmed the spot just under Greg’s belly.

 

“Thinkin’ about my baby and my happy home”

 

Mycroft was buried to the hilt. The first crash was just a shutter. No thrusting. A small crackle hit Greg’s nerves. Mycroft’s hand started massaging around his penis. Greg relaxed into the touch.

Greg felt Mycroft’s palm open and steady him for a series of five hard thrusts.

Mycroft heard a surprised squeak come from below him. Mycroft took a deep breath and loosely wrapped his hand around Greg’s penis.

Mycroft executed another series of five firm thrusts. He was gently cradling Greg’s manhood. Greg could feel five fingers gently caressing him. Greg was slowly being torn asunder by the dueling sensations.

Mycroft could hear Greg’s voice start to pitch upwards. Mycroft gave a wicked smile Greg would never see.

Mycroft started rolling his hips. Which produced a corkscrew effect inside Greg. Greg’s hips did not know which direction to move. The stuttering movement was brought to a standstill. Mycroft’s fingers tightened their grasp. The thrust buried Greg deep into the pillows.

Mycroft started gently rocking them forward and backwards. His fingers gently tapping Greg’s penis. Mycroft’s hips gave a little snap.

Greg heard Robert Plant start “Ahhing” and “Ohing”. Mycroft was gently stroking him roughly in time with Robert. Mycroft’s devious fingers seemingly drawing shapes all over the shaft and the head. His hips keeping up perfectly with the crash cymbal.

Greg stole one final look at Mycroft. His entire body was swaying to the music. His breathing was getting more rapid. His pupils were almost entirely blown out.

 

_He hasn’t fired off yet by shear force of will._

Was Greg’s last coherent thought before he gave himself fully over to Mycroft.

 

“Going, going to Chicago…”

 

Mycroft leaned forward and wrapped his right arm around Greg’s torso.

 

“Going to Chicago…”

 

Mycroft was keeping most of his weight on his knees.

 

“Sorry but I can’t take you…”

 

Mycroft started kissing and suckling Greg’s neck and shoulder blades.

 

“Going down… going down now… going down….”

 

Mycroft was giving him full strokes. His hips still rocking both of them in between the thrusts.

 

“Going down now… going down…”

 

Greg could feel Mycroft’s thighs starting to flutter.

 

“going down…”

 

Greg could feel how hard Mycroft was by how full he felt.

 

“going down…”

 

Mycroft felt his hand become slick. Greg was ready. Mycroft dropped the exact timing of the song. His only thought was to let Greg have as mind blowing of an orgasm as he had just received.

Mycroft’s right hand wiggled it’s way to a nipple. He was gently pinching and pulling it in time with the strokes. Greg went silent after that. Mycroft smiled.

During sex Greg lost his vocals and Mycroft found them. Greg would constantly tease Mycroft on the matter. Mycroft was a screamer. It made sneaking a quickie in public a great deal harder. Greg always found a means of gagging him.

Greg bore a scar on his right forearm. They had gone to a Pops performance of “The Four Seasons”. Mycroft had dragged Greg to some office under the orchestra pit. Jammed a chair below the doorknob and threw Greg on the sofa. The whole office was vibrating with the music. By the time Mycroft chomped onto Greg’s arm they were both so moved with pleasure there was no pain involved. Home was the only place Greg could let Mycroft howl away.

Mycroft was just there. He wanted Greg to go first. Mycroft gave a good tweak to his nipple while running a finger just under the head. Greg’s whole body stiffened. Mycroft could begin to feel Greg cumming.

Greg clamped down on Mycroft. The waves of Greg’s orgasm massaging Mycroft into his. Mycroft adding his wonderful howl to the conclusion of the song. Mycroft pulled out and collapsed next to Greg.

They needed a few minutes to catch their breath. Fingers intertwining.

 

“Another perfectly good song fucking ruined by you.”

 

“You are most welcome Gregory.”

 

They locked eyes and let themselves become consumed with laughter. They would get up later. Shower. Change the sheets.

Right now they just let themselves be content. As lovers often do.

 

 


End file.
